Last Words
by SirKriS
Summary: It was a stupid argument; one that should hardly have escalated to the point there they were now. They never should have been his last words to her.


**A/N: Brace yourself.**

* * *

"One phone call. Hell, even one text would have been good enough. But no, apparently I wasn't even worth that much."

Sherlock sighed as he folded the newspaper to look up at his girlfriend. In many ways her being his girlfriend had a lot to do with why she was upset with him.

"Molly don't overreact. I didn't even need to be hospitalised. What good would it have been telling you?"

He turned to face her for the first time since she brought the topic up. It had come up time and time again since his return from a case in Belfast two nights ago. She was dangerously close to the beakers on the table, but he surmised she wasn't angry enough to chuck them at him.

"I did not appreciate finding out while being hounded on the phone by Kitty Riley. Riley Sherlock. How did that third-rate know about you getting shot and stabbed in Northern Ireland before I did?"

Sherlock waved his arm dismissively. "They weren't even critical," he said as he unconsciously hugged his gown around his midriff, where the bandages were.

She glared at him. "You know that's not the point."

"Then enlighten me."

Sherlock didn't really need her to. This wasn't the first time Sherlock had exclusively kept Molly out of the loop in regard to the injuries he acquired while working. It mostly had been for insignificant incidents, but John pointed out that the degree didn't matter. By excluding her he was giving the wrong impression.

"I know I didn't matter enough to know before. No," she raised her hand to mute his oncoming protest."You know what I mean. I was an afterthought. And it was okay, because I wasn't really in the forefront of your life. But things are different know."

His eyes narrowed at her. "My work hasn't gotten any safer since you moved in. Or is this nuisance another prerequisite of having a relationship?" He didn't mean to make his words as scathing as they came out, and her flinch did not go unnoticed. He could hear the subconscious voice of John groan at his actions but ignored it. He wasn't at fault, he assured himself.

Molly, who had been glaring at him up to that point, just sighed in defeat. "You think I'm overreacting? Fine, I'll drop it." That being said, Molly marched towards to the coat rack.

A twinge of panic rose up to his Sherlock's chest as he watched her hastily, but pride refused to let him acknowledge it. "So you're just leaving."

"Yes." She replied in a clipped tone. "I should know better than to argue with the great Sherlock Holmes. And we need groceries."

He felt himself relax slightly and silently watched her fuss with her boots. In her anger she was having a hard time getting them to cooperate. He contemplated tagging along, if only to alleviate her anger. It would have been the closest apology he could come to in his stubborn state. Unpleasant as he may like to be, Sherlock felt no joy when Molly was upset with him.

"Before you ask, no I don't want you to come with me."

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "I wasn't going to," he said defensively.

"Fine."

"_Fine_," he responded in the most sardonic tone.

"You know, you can be such a child," she hissed before slamming the door behind her. Sherlock ruffled his curls in frustration. He was half-tempted to go after her but instead took to looking through the window, waiting for her to get a cab.

* * *

Molly sighed as she hailed a cab from the street. A chilling breeze whipped through, reminding her of the scarf and gloves she had left behind in her angry wake. She didn't suffer long, for a cab soon stopped for her and she was on her way to Sainsbury's.

She lazily watched the buildings pass by. She was almost sure he was doing to spare her concern, but . But at the same time It wasn't that she felt entitled to knowing everything about him, she just felt terrible for never being able to worry along with everyone else. Ignorance in these cases, was not blissful. Why couldn't he understand that?

* * *

It should have been hard to explain himself. He didn't want her to worry. If there was anything about Molly, it was that she worrier. It was practically ingrained in her nature. Concern was pointless unless it lead to resolution. Most of the dangers he has and will continue to encounter would not be solved by her worrying. So why should she be concerned if she needn't be? It was perfectly sound logic in his mind, yet he still fell frustration over being unable to communicate the sentiment to her.

_Maybe it's because you know it's utter rubbish_, a voice that sounded suspiciously like John said. _The logic doesn't flow both ways and you know that_.

Sherlock continued to argue with himself when a phone call interrupted his thoughts. It was Molly.

"Do we have eggs?"

"Shouldn't you know what you intended to get beforehand?" He winced at his words.

He heard Molly sigh. "It's a simple yes or no question. I'm already at the store and I'd rather not to trudge all the way back just because you're being uncooperative."

Sherlock bristled. "You were the one that chose to walk out without bothering to check what we needed."

"Sherlock just answer the question. Do we, or do we not have eggs?"

"We do not."

"Thank you," she replied tersely. He moved to hang up when she asked another question. "And digestive biscuits?"

"Do I have to think for you now?"

He heard a trolley skid to a halt. "Why are you being difficult? If anything,_ I'm_ the one who's supposed to be mad at you right now."

Sherlock knew she was right, and that his irritation was unfounded. It was just tat he wasn't prepared to admit that his actions had been wrong on that front.

"It's not like I'm ask you to give up your work," she continued. "I just don't want to be the last to know when something bad happens to you."

"Well you heard about it eventually didn't you?" Sherlock cut in before he could reign himself back."But for arguments' sake lets say you do become the first to know about my injuries. In what way would you or I benefit from it?"

_Shut up_, his conscience voiced. _Shut. Up_. But Sherlock paid no mind. "You gain nothing from caring over something out of your control. Once you understand that maybe you'll stop being overbearing."

Molly fell silent."You think I'm overbearing." They were almost lost to the bustling noise of the background but he heard them.

In that moment, Sherlock felt like the worst person in the world. _Say something_, his mind urged, but he found himself tongue-tied.

The phone crackled as she drew out a breath. "Okay. I'll um, I'll get the biscuits just in case. I know how much you like them and the more the better right?" She laughed unconvincingly.

Sherlock began to say something, but she interrupted.

"Right, well I'll be done in half an hour. And, I'm-I'm sorry."

He was left with the dial-tone ringing in his ears.

Idiot. The word echoed through the halls of his Mind Palace. It didn't matter in what mental voice it came in. Sherlock wholeheartedly agreed.

Molly was still blinking back tears as she hauled her bags out of the store. She felt dumb or getting emotional over it. She knew what Sherlock could be like regarding his safety. He didn't think much of it. And of course he would find her insistence a hassle. She knew she was a worry-wort. It didn't mean that she wholly agreed with Sherlock takes on things, but she had to admit she may have been pushing the envelope a tad too much.

The howling wind whipped against what she now noticed were tear-streaked cheeks. She cursed herself for not having brought her ear muffs. All she could hear was the chilling wind as she walked down the zebra crossing. She lifted an arm to wipe out the blurring tears to her face. At first, Molly didn't catch on to the startled cries of the pedestrians around her. By the time she realised what was about to happen,it was too late to veer away.

* * *

Soon after their conversation Sherlock reverted to their bedroom to think. It shouldn't have taken the time it did, but Sherlock eventually came to the conclusion that he needed to apologise to Molly. It had been silly of him to let the argument get that far, especially when he was only doing it to save his misplaced pride over being inconsiderate. Being able to admit that felt freeing, and Sherlock found himself jumping of the bed in relief.

It was only then he noticed how dim the room was. The sun had nearly set and he couldn't smell anything coming form the kitchen. Molly always got a cooking drive right after grocery shopping. She once explained something along the lines of how they were as fresh as they would ever be.

Sherlock walked down the narrow stretch of the hallway out of the bedroom to an empty kitchen, and equally empty living room. There were no signs he had ever come back, and Sherlock frowned in confusion. He heard his phone buzz on the table and stopped short when he saw the ten notifications awaiting him. one missed call from Molly, two from Lestrade, six from John, and a voice message from one of them. He wasn't sure whom yet.

He didn't know what alarmed him the most, having missed so many in what his phone confirmed to be 4 three hours after entering his Mind Palace, or the fact that he had a dreadful suspicion it had something to do with Molly not being home yet.

Sherlock wasted not time picking up the incoming call from John that rang in that moment.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Sherlock? Where the _HELL_ have you been?!" I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I shouldn't-we tried to reach you-I'm on my way to Baker Street and-" A chill ran through him as he heard John trying to collect himself. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" he pressed, allowing an edge of fear creep in his voice.

John hesitated, and Sherlock willed his mind from delving into theories or scenarios of what could have happened. Surely nothing happened. The universe couldn't be convoluted enough to pick this occasion (or any preferably) for something to happen. Sherlock clutched on tightly to the phone as John carefully tried to explain the situation.

"I-I don't understand. What do you mean she's not-are you sure? I SAID ARE YOU SURE?"

The last words had nearly reverberated the darkening room. He heard a clatter before realising it was the phone hitting the phone. John's dim cries of 'hello' could be heard still coming from it but Sherlock hardly noticed. All he could hear was their last conversation. Her last words to him. His last words to her.

He felt like dying.

* * *

**A/N:I've got a small 2nd part that can go either way. But so for is it yay or nay?**


End file.
